The Mafia Contract Series

As soon as I sign the cold contract outlining my life, there’s a strange sense of relief. This is a good thing, surely. It could be worse. At least we have boundaries, rules and they are in my best interest, too. Despite who he is, Angelo is a gentleman and I must remember that. He could have made this difficult for me and used and abused me like so many mafia men believe is their right. Not him. He has a heart somewhere deep inside that refuses to be destroyed. I know it’s there just from the soft touches and unguarded looks. He is struggling along with me and that’s why I signed his damned contract. To show him it’s ok. I won’t fight him in his own home and maybe this could work. It must for my own sake as well as his.

As soon as the ink is scratched on the dotted line, he sets the contract aside and takes me by the hand. Dragging me to my feet and against his chest. One hand parts the robe, and the other slides around my waist and he pulls me close against his hard body. The heat of the fire wraps me in warmth and as he dips his lips to mine, there are no words necessary. The only ones that matter lie on the paper beside us and as we approach this madness as a business transaction, I cast out emotion, never to darken my heart again.

Angelo’s kisses are torture and pleasure rolled into one. Pleasure for how good they are and torture because there is no emotion behind them. A business deal, that’s all this is, and as I kiss him back, I try to force any stupid hope of love from my heart.

As my robe falls to the ground and joins his, I shiver as he kisses a trail over my breasts and presses his mouth to the sensitive skin that trembles for him.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

I adore every kiss, every stroke and every minute of his attention and as his face settles between my thighs, I gasp as the wet heat between my legs is licked clean by his tongue. It’s so good after the harsh invasion earlier and I moan softly as he sucks my desperate bundle of nerves that wants more.

His slightly rough stubble grazes against my soft skin and his hands cup my ass as he feasts on my betrayal.

I try not to want him, but it’s impossible. I can deny him nothing because he makes me feel so good. As the pressure builds and I lose my mind, Angelo Sontauro brings me to a climax that crashes through my body like a riptide. I’m so weak with emotion because today has been monumental in every way and my legs shake as I struggle to stand as he releases the tension and pent-up emotion inside me with a gentle sweep of his tongue.

Before I can even recover, he is wrapping the robe tightly around my body and saying with an emotionless voice, “You may go. We’ll meet for breakfast in the morning, seven-thirty sharp. I have a busy day ahead and don’t like to eat alone.”

I try to adjust my mind from the haze of euphoria he left me in, and I blink in surprise, “I’m sorry.”

He ties his own robe around his body and nods toward the door.

“You can find your own way back to your room. I have some work to wrap up here before I can turn in for the night. Make use of the time to adjust to your situation. I’m sure you could use the time and space.”

“Oh, um, thank you.”

I’m lost for words and a little betrayed by this whole arrangement and rather than let him see that, I spin on my heel and leave without another glance in his direction.

I fight back the tears as I head blindly through the empty hallway and take the stairs quickly, in a hurry to create distance between us. I don’t see anything but my own situation mocking me as I head to my room alone, feeling like the hired help and I’m guessing that’s all I am, really. A wife for hire. A fuck toy and a dining companion. Somebody to fulfill a role and just sit around waiting for my moment to shine. What sort of life is this, anyway?

Then I remember the way he sets me alight and the pleasure he brings to my body and heart. He’s soft yet strong, cold yet hot where it counts, an enigma, an oxymoron, a paradox. By the time I reach my suite of rooms, I’m struggling. It’s wrong to be here without him. How have I gained dependency on a soft look and a gentle touch so quickly? I want to be with him; to see his gentle eyes sparkling with lust. Not the cold, emotionless ones that dismissed me so cruelly.

For a moment, I let the emptiness wrap me in a shield. I lie on the bed and focus on the ornate molding encasing the chandelier. The room surrounds me like a dark cavern and there is so much space it’s as if I’m alone in the world. My family has gone. I’m not sure when I will be permitted to see them again and I’m here alone, fulfilling a role I was always destined for. Just for a second I was happy.

When I was in my husband’s arms, it was as if I had arrived, and I am left with the ache between my legs as the only indication someone was there at all. That pain is now my friend because it shows I’m not alone. There will be a brief moment every day when my body is flush with his. Where two hearts beat against one another, and pleasure takes over. I have that at least. The promise of a heated body filling mine and reminding me there is some warmth in the world. For a couple of hours every day, I won’t be alone, and I must hold on to that and accept it gratefully.

Tonight is my wedding night and I stare at the ceiling like a frozen statue until the cool night air forces me to climb under the covers. Sleep doesn’t visit me tonight. Too much has happened and as I lie alone in a huge bed in a strange house, I have never felt so alone.